


🗨imagine

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Crying During Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreaking, Jackie remains deceased, Kinktober, Multi, Roleplay, Sad AF after sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Whumptober, canon minor character death, one of the people in this threesome is imagined, sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Gil didn’t realize asking for this role play could simultaneously bring him so many conflicting feelings.Whumptober: Grief + Mourning a Loved One + Kinktober: Begging + Threesome
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	🗨imagine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tess_genor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/gifts).



> Whumptober + Kinktober = this experiment. I have a handful of different Kinktober prompt lists and the Whumptober prompt list, so I'm going to cross them over as much as I can. These came from [Kinktober](https://lustyargonianmaid.tumblr.com/post/627757371721220096/time-to-start-planning-kinktober-fandom-works), [Kinktober](https://jbbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/627189398153363456/kinktober-2020) and [Whumptober](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated).

“Yes,” Jackie moans in Gil’s ear, kisses beside it, laps underneath it. His wife knows exactly where to nip, where to tease to flood his body with continuous waves of pleasure. They gradually roll in, loosening the day’s hold on him and laying him bare to her ministrations.

Gil’s hips roll, meeting her as she rocks into him. Watching his cock glide into her, his hands cover her hips, fingertips dig into the swell of her ass. He’s in control, but he listens to everything she says, follows each expression tracking whether they’re at the same level. Judging by how slick she is around his dick and the curve of bliss stretching from the corner of her lips, she’s good. _Very_ good.

“Like that,” she directs. Rests a hand on top of the headboard, giving her more leverage to pull up and sink her hips. Repeating as the pleasure works its way up her spine, speckles her breasts, lolls her head.

He slides one hand up her stomach and cups her breast. The soft flesh spills out of his fingers, jerks when she grinds against him. He licks, brushes his goatee against her nipple. Blows puffs of air, staring as they peak and sucking again. Brings her closer to a precipice he can’t see.

“Ugh,” she moans. Her little sounds go straight to his cock, egg him on to thrust faster.

He reaches further, feels Malcolm’s arms wrapped around her, circling her clit. She’s sandwiched between the two of them, sopping up every bit of pleasure they can give. His fingers trace the line of her neck, palm the rapid thrum of the pulse point at her throat. “Babe, tell me what you need,” Gil directs.

“Fuck me, Gil. Fuck me.”

She rides him harder, his hands and Malcolm’s pulling her onto his cock, setting a steady rhythm. Gil’s hips snap, drive as deep as he can in a quest to fulfill her demands. Her hair brushes along his cheek, sticks to his chest, clings to every bit of him as they race to bring her to orgasm.

If he leans forward a little bit, maybe he could smell her hair, sweet lilac mixing with musk, creating a headier scent than the garden. Get her hands to latch onto his hair, tug as she rides him. Catch her lips, tongues knocking for each other’s throats, inseperable.

She leans back, opening up to a deeper thrust. He gets more use of his hips, but Malcolm gets more of her. “More. Touch me more.”

His fingers shift beside Malcolm’s, both of them rubbing, tapping her vee in a way that twists her face in pants of delight. He pinches her nipple, _hard_ , licks it to soothe after as it bobs in time with her hips. If he could get a little bit closer…

“More, more.” Her hips slam into his. Her breasts escape him on a bounce, his hand twists to hold her back.

He drives up as much as he can, the wet slap of bodies echoing each time they meet. He’s gonna come if they keep this up — he needs Malcolm to help get her there.

“Ohhh,” she cries as Malcolm bites into the base of her neck, his own moans muffled by her skin. Gil thumbs at her clit, and she falls forward, wailing into his shoulder as she comes, walls clenching around him, holding on for dear life. She keeps bobbing rapidly, and he spills deep within her, his own cry roaring from his throat. They fall into a cluster of bodies against the headboard. Heaving. Breathing.

Gil doesn’t want to open his eyes.

“You okay?” Malcolm asks.

All of the emotions swirling inside Gil try to come out at the same time. His voice breaks, “Yeah. You?” His hand shakes near Malcolm’s face, holds onto his jaw, and strokes his beard.

Malcolm starts to lift his head. “Please don’t move,” Gil says. He clears his throat. “I need a few more minutes.”

A few more minutes of the three of them together.

A few more minutes where Jackie isn’t dead.

“As long as you need,” Malcolm assures him.

Gil didn’t know asking for this role play could simultaneously bring him blinding happiness, a toe-curling orgasm, and bone-aching sadness. The reality slices him open, pours tears down his sweaty face. Tears that have been stowed away for years, building their strength.

Malcolm stirs, tries to hold his cheek.

“Don’t move,” Gil protests, words weak.

The day before Gil and Jackie’s anniversary when Gil’s grief had reemerged, darkening breakfast with spots of rotting fruit, bits of burnt bacon and toast. Something that was okay to voice around each other, understanding the nature of their grief for the woman who meant the world to them. Something Gil thought would help after several years, something that they carefully planned, nibbling around the bad spots. He’s pretty sure this isn’t what help looks like. The deluge he’s left with now isn’t quite what he had in mind. But maybe it's what he needed. What they both needed.

“Please. Let me comfort you,” Malcolm begs.

“In a minute.” The kid listens, the two of them shaking on a raft as the storm crashes around them, within them.

Gil holds him tight until he slips out. The loss is a fraction of the pain he experienced the first time yet grips his chest just the same. He opens his eyes and his wife dissolves back into the shadows.

His husband must have sensed the change, as Malcolm lifts up, leans them forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Cups at his cheeks and runs the wipers in a monsoon. “Can I hold you?” Malcolm asks.

Gil nods slightly, and he’s tugged down onto the bed, head cradled against Malcolm’s chest. All of Malcolm’s limbs wrap tight around him, hold him, tell him he’s there. Latch him to a life preserver, keep him from drowning in his grief.

His whole body shudders with sobs, even as he tries to rein them in. Where pleasure once flooded, pain takes over, knocking deep into his bones. It physically hurts remembering his wife who had been there moments ago, yet is now so very gone. Never to return. He knew that years ago, but it’s so much more real now, drilling for marrow in the bedroom. Adrift from a grounding rig in the ocean.

He falls asleep to the soft, repeating whoosh of, “It's okay. I love you. I’m sorry.”

A wave of lilac greets him in his dreams. He smiles and continues on home.

* * *

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> i've received significant support from so many people in this fandom that help make my writing possible. as this story is E, if you're 18+ and would like to chat prodigal son with wicked awesome people, come on by the [pson trash server](https://discord.gg/TVkmgxV).


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